Shadowed Past
by Straya
Summary: A Suikoden III one-shot fic: His own people cast him out. The world misunderstands him. His past is shrouded in mystery. Who is he, this warrior who both defies and delivers death?


_Disclaimer: Genso Suikoden III and all related characters are copyright Konami._

**"Shadowed Past"**

Rubbing the grains of damp, red stained soil between thumb and forefinger, I examined the scattered tracks marking the ground. The scent of blood was heavy on the air, recently shed and with the coppery hint of fear lacing it. Unfortunately, it's an odor I am all too familiar with. Taking my blade in hand, I began to jog through the shadowed woods, seeking my quarry. They could not have gotten too far in such a short amount of time, given one of them was a child just shy of his teenage years. 

I recalled with a twinge of regret how much he and some of the castle's other children reminded me of a youth I used to know years ago, before everything went to hell. Adventurous and curious, he had left his home to accompany me on my own journeys, since few people accepted me and I saw little choice, but to wander. The two of us didn't always get along; in fact, we bickered with frequency, but it was a relationship born of tough love, as some might say. He was seven years my junior back then, but I knew one day he would grow to be a fine fighter. We traveled for a few months, seeking our places in the world and moving from town to town. Unfortunately, his habit of stealing did not help our reputation much, but in the worst of times, it kept food in our stomachs and medicine in our pouches. Then again, I lacked enough in social graces to wear out our welcomes quickly enough, anyway. 

Then _it_ came along and changed everything. 

I found it while exploring the mountain ranges in north Dunan. In those days, I had a tendency to throw caution to the wind and walk headlong into the most obvious traps, even if just for the hell of it. In a lot of ways, I still am that way. My partner was more wary of the voice that called to us both, and hung back, warning me to do likewise. I really should have listened, but I was not prone to taking advice from anyone, much less a fourteen year old. 

The cave smelled of death, itself, ripe with the scent of rotting flesh. The darkness seemed all consuming, and even the light from my torch did little to hold back the shadows, which seemed to have a life all their own. I remember trying to laugh it all off, but the farther I went, the more frightened I felt. Fear is not something I am familiar with... It is often an emotion I invoke in others, rather, so the chills that ran the length of my spine chased away what courage I had left. By then, however, it was already too late. Shining red eyes greeted me from the blackest regions of the foul pit I had wandered into, the sound of fanged jaws snapping shut echoing off the rocky walls around me. 

I can only assume that the creature had once been a wolf. But years of living in the shadows and rolling in rot had caused much of its fur to fall out, leaving behind only stench saturated patches of matted hair. Bits of flesh hung loosely from its jaws, jammed in between yellowed teeth and providing lengths for the creature's thick saliva to slide down. Maggots writhed about in its gums, collecting bits of carrion in a sickening dance all their own. As the massive creature stalked towards me, I discovered I couldn't find my voice, whether to scream in terror or for help. Before I could even gather my wits enough to draw the spear on my back, the monster lunged at me, jaws ripping into my torch bearing arm and knocking the only source of light to the wet cavern floor. I wrestled with the beast for all I was worth, but death was inevitable. A wet snap told me my arm had been broken, and my attempts to pry the fierce some jaws away only resulted in claws raking across the right side of my face, blinding me with my own blood. 

Then I heard the voice, again, echoing out of the pitch black as a hissed whisper. It asked me if I wished to live. I was barely able to answer, the creature on top of me pressing its paws onto my chest as it attempted to shred my arm clear of its socket. Yes, I wanted to survive! I didn't want to die in so horrible a place, eaten alive by some demon! Years before, I had mocked such creatures, thinking them as amusing, yet fascinating bits of lore to frighten small children with, but when faced with one, I didn't want it to kill me. The voice then told me I had accepted great responsibility, and before I could bother to question what it meant, the freakish monster pinning me to the floor of the cave dropped my arm, shrieking in pain. Pushing myself up on my good arm, I sat in darkness, listening as my attacker writhed about on the ground, limbs thrashing wildly about. After a few moments, it ceased, and the only sound remaining was that of my ragged breathing. 

I reached out, trying to find the torch in the vain hope that perhaps it could be relit. Before I could close my fingers about the bit of wood, however, something struck me in the head, pinning my back against the wall. I struggled, but to no avail. It burned into my flesh, burrowing into my forehead. I clawed at my own face, screaming for it to leave me be, but the voice reminded me that I had wanted to live, and so it had saved me...saved me for itself. Before the pain caused me to black out, I managed to demand what it was, where it had come from. 

_I am eternity_, it said. _I am darkness... I am True Shadow._

When I awoke, I found my head bandaged and my arm set into a splint. My companion had managed to locate me and drag me clear of the old cave, patching me up with what supplies and know-how he possessed. As I lay on the ground near the campfire, listening to him lecture me about my stupidity and recklessness, I became aware of a presence in my head. It pulsed and burned like a glowing ember in my brain, influencing my thoughts and working its way into my entire being. The rune craved trickery and destruction, which I could not grant in my injured state, and so I could only lay still and allow its power to wash over me. 

The next few days made me painfully aware that the partnership with my longtime friend would have to end soon. The rune that had forced its way into my head would take time to get used to, and in the mean time, it began to influence my behavior, turning me from a sarcastic prankster into a willing killer. The youngster with me looked more like a target with each passing day, and finally I gave up fighting the influence and told my friend he would have to go home and leave me behind. My request was met with several curses and arguments, but I think he knew something about me had changed, and not for the better. He remained with me only a few more days, trying to be sure that I would make it on my own with my wounds taken into account, and then departed, heading south. I doubted I would see him again, since I felt it would be a poor decision to locate him or my old home while the rune held sway over me. 

The mountains and forests became my home, henceforth, providing me with cover and training grounds wherein I could learn to tame the power of the rune. It contained memories I could not fully comprehend; recollections of past masters, many of whom were far more cruel and deceptive than I. In time, I found the rune had chosen me, called to me, because of how I had developed as a person. My general amusement in the fear of others made me a prime candidate, given the fact the arcane power, itself, was based in shadow and fear. And so it waited for me, or someone like me, to come along, residing in the body of the wolf until a better master could be located. Its influence made me violent in ways I had trouble controlling, and eventually, it was only be allowing it to merge with my personality and manifest itself through my regular behavior that I held it in check. The rune transformed me into a morbid creature of sorts, but at least in open battle, its hunger could be sated with blood and my more logical side would be able to peek through for more emotional thought processes. I am more myself in my own mind when slaughtering foes than at any other time. It is a true, but strange paradox. And during those years of self inflicted isolation, I gave myself a new name and sheared off much of my long hair, determined to hide from those who knew me previous for fear of what the rune might cause me to do to them. 

People don't grant me much credit for intelligence. Hardly anyone has in the past, either. I am the grim, laughing lunatic, who dares to dance with death, and little more. I might be more upset about projecting such a self-image, except that it helps me control the power of the rune. Those who can accept me for who and what I am without learning of the rune earn and keep my respect. And with True Runes coveted and even hated as they are, I can easily live with keeping mine well hidden. Its very nature makes it difficult to detect, its presence partially masked by its fusion with my persona. 

Not long into my run, I could make out the sound of low and vicious snarls, echoing out of the maw of one large and enraged animal. Slowing to a halt, I parted the brush and peered into a clearing to see a massive bear attempting to climb a half fallen tree, the roots jutting up into the air. Some fifteen feet up, cowering the branches of the near dead oak, sat a child with a bloodied pant leg. How he had managed his escape and the climb baffled me a bit, but I know well the power a good burst of adrenaline can grant even the most feeble or tiny of creatures. Without a word of warning, I charged forward, weapon at the ready. 

The grizzly whirled about with speed one might think impossible for such a large beast, its jaws overflowing with foaming saliva, but I was quicker. Dodging off to one side, I swung in with my blade, slashing the animal across one hind leg. Maddened by the pain, it came at me again, lumbering across the clearing on all fours with a thunderous roar. Leaping high, I cleared the four-legged giant and landed on both feet, weapon arching about with practiced ease to cut my opponent upside its exposed haunch. Blood spattered both my side and the ground, the bear shaking its head with an agonizing cry. Granted swiftness out of rage and fear, the animal barreled towards me, and this time, managed to catch me in one side with a huge, taloned paw. Hitting the ground with a grunt, I rolled off to one side as my enemy attempted to follow up with a second swipe. Pain lanced through my flank, and I knew my flesh now sported several large gashes. Getting to my feet, I danced back and away as the bear prepared to press the attack. 

"Cover your eyes!" I called out, the child hesitating a moment before heading my advice. He didn't trust me. I couldn't blame him. 

My free hand found my eye patch band and yanked it clear, exposing the grisly scar on the right side of my face, along with the withered lid of my sightless eye. Weapon arm rising, I offered the beast before me a smirk as it charged. A low pitched humming echoed in the clearing, and a moment later, the shadows of everything within a good twenty five feet sprang to life. The dark masses rushed forward, fluid as water, and began to consume my enemy. Ripping, tearing, shredding, they dragged the animal down and finished it off, muffling its roars of panic and pain. They combined and divided as necessary, diving down the grizzly's throat and reducing it to piles of bloody carrion. A wave of my hand scattered the remains, rolling the bones and chunks of flesh into and under the brush, leaving only a bloodstained patch of soil behind. As I drew my blade back, the shadows retreated, reattaching themselves to their proper owners. Sniffing derisively, I pulled the band back over my head, forcing it over my unkempt light brown hair. Such was the power of darkness, granted for the perverse pleasure of the rune. 

Once I'd sheathed my weapon, I scaled the tree with ease, the boy uncovering one eye to stare at me in terror. Only a few feet from him, I regarded him with a blank expression, sensing his fear and reminding the thing in my head that it had been granted enough bloodshed for one day. 

"Landis..." he began in a shaking, tiny voice, "Why...why d-did it have to be you?" 

I narrowed my good eye, frowning. "You wound me, kid. Your game of hide and seek with Melville and Alanis turns wicked on you, and you treat your rescuer like this?" 

It was the first time I'd spoken to him, seriously. My unusual tone of voice took him by surprise, causing him to uncover both eyes and re-examine his savior. 

"Come on," I offered, holding out one hand to him. "You're bleeding everywhere. I need to get you to Doctor Tuta." 

His gaze shifted to my hand, the sharp, white claws extending from my fingertips. I could tell he'd been crying, and it looked like the waterworks might start up again at any given moment. 

"I won't hurt you, Elliot," I tried to assure him. "One of my own gruesome hexes on my own head if I do." 

After another moment's hesitation, he put his hand in mine and I hauled him into my arms, the long toes and talons of my feet curling about the tree branches to keep us both from plummeting to the ground. As my black wings spread, Elliot wrapped his arms about my neck, shaking and whimpering. As I felt him hanging off me, afraid of both the flight were about to take, as well as of me, I half regretted my previous treatment of the kid. While it was all in good fun, I assumed he didn't always see it that way. His honest to goddess terror of me made me feel guilty...a rare thing, indeed. The rune raged, finding my sudden, honest caring for the youth disgusting, but it could do little. I controlled it more with each passing day. It would bend to MY will. 

"I ain't gonna drop you," I promised, smirking. "Besides, after we get back and they fix you up, I have a new story for you." 

"It's a scary one, isn't it?" Elliot half cried, miserably. "Why are they always scary?" 

"This one's different. It's a secret story." 

"A...a secret story?" 

I nodded. "And important. Never told anyone else. And once I tell you, you can't tell anyone." 

"Wha-what's it about?" 

I leapt from the tree, my wings catching enough wind to get us airborne for a swift return to Budehuc. Elliot clung to me for all he was worth, and I tightened my grip on him as I replied, a rueful smile crossing my face. 

"About a Winghorder named Sid, who met his destiny several years ago in Dunan..." 

********** 

_Author's Notes: This story is not canon in any way. However, it is written based on the facts gathered by Kidd in Suiko III and Richmond in Suiko II. Both Sid and Landis have the exact same habits of burying fish they've eaten, scaring children with ghost stories and walking on their hands, ocassionally. Both also make use of pole arm based weapons, have the same skin tone and hair color, and even dress similarly. Both are also listed as being 21 years of age in their respective games. It's my guess that the two are somehow related, and while we don't know for sure what that relation was, I decided to write this story to explain how they might be one in the same, since Landis really didn't get a lot of development in Suikoden III and not many write fiction based on his character. The "True Shadow Rune" is also of my own creation. Hope you enjoyed the fic!_ :) 


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